‘Just because art is nice doesn’t mean the people who steal it are.’
Jill McTigue, Head of London’s Metropolitan Police’s Art & Antiques Unit1
Why do thieves target art? What are their motives and how do they hope to dispose of their illicitly gained swag? On the whole, thieves want to turn a profit from their criminal endeavours. This might involve anything from passing it on to other criminals, in the form of bartering the stolen items as a kind of black-market currency, through to selling it on to a fence (receiver and on-seller of stolen property) for a quick sale, or simply holding on to the art work in the hope of either ransoming the piece back to the owner or hoping to be the recipient of a reward (if such was offered). This chapter looks at the various ways that criminals might hope to profit from their pernicious activities by discussing the main differences between a reward, a ransom and a buy-back – terms often widely misunderstood when reported on. It traces the origins of the modern-day reward back to seventeenth-century London and the establishment of what would later become the world’s most famous insurance market: Lloyd’s of London. It then discusses the law and practice – as it stands in relation to what is permissible when offering a reward – highlighting the pitfalls to be wary of, as well as the conditions that need to be met, during the search, return and recovery of stolen property by the differing parties involved. Throughout, this chapter refers – via certain case studies – to instances where rewards have been judiciously offered to achieve the end goal: the successful return and safe recovery of the stolen art work. It concludes by stating that the reward system, whilst not a panacea, is but one way of eliciting information from society’s underbelly and still has its place in the process to reclaim what was unlawfully taken.
Consider the following: a well-planned theft from a stately home, or a museum, targeting high-end art works and pieces by ‘A-list’ artists – works that are surely too hot to handle and too well-known for the criminals to successfully sell or pass on. A more than likely scenario, one would assume, when famous works are stolen. Thus, the art work goes to ground, leads disappear and the trail grows cold, making it very hard for those charged with the recovery of the art work and/or arrest of the thieves to successfully fulfil their charter.2 To help expedite the return, a reward is offered, which brings forth information – either from somebody directly removed from the crime, or thief, or person closely connected to the predicate offence – which ultimately leads to the return of the undamaged stolen art work and subsequent arrest(s) of the perpetrator(s), allowing for a neat ending and near-perfect resolution to the original crime; the reward seemingly being central to the outcome. This would certainly ring true in this fictionalised account.
Has it happened in reality? Yes and no. As art increases in value, so too do the thefts. There are, sadly, plenty of examples of high-profile art thefts worldwide, many of which have generated the offering of a reward and, more importantly, the return of the art work; however, true life never quite follows so smooth a conclusion – as can be seen throughout this chapter. Take one of the most famous art thefts ever: the 1911 theft of the Mona Lisa from the Musée du Louvre in Paris. Following the release of the story, national outrage ensued with many newspapers offering rewards for the return of a national treasure, known in France as La Joconde. However, not until two years later did the actual thief offer the painting to an art dealer in Italy in the hope of profiting from a reward, whereupon – after inspection and verification of the art work – he was duly arrested. His motive? Partly it was misguided patriotism; the thief, Vincenzo Peruggia, a 30-year-old Italian workman employed by the museum, believed, wrongly, that the work had been looted by Napoleon and that he was, therefore, merely a pawn in a ‘self-repatriation’ exercise, returning La Gioconda to Italy. However, ultimately, it was the real expectation of receiving money for his crime – a ‘reward’ – that led Peruggia to his now infamous place in the pantheon of art criminals.3 Interestingly, his identification as the culprit was taken at the time as being something of an anticlimax; such had been the public’s fervour surrounding the theft, together with the assumption that only a villainous millionaire collector could have orchestrated such a crime. This misnomer of a ‘Mr Big’ is something that we shall address shortly.
That case concerned one of the world’s most famous paintings. Fast forward 92 years and to another art theft, this time involving an iconic sculpture – Benvenuto Cellini’s Saliera – which took place in Vienna in 2003. Despite the length in time between these crimes, the theft of Cellini’s prized work shared certain similar characteristics with the Mona Lisa theft: a famous art work stolen from a museum; poor security; the ease with which the thief took the item and fled; a reward offered; a time lapse of two years before news of the piece resurfaced, leading to the eventual arrest of the original culprit. The motive here was financial, but this time the thief wanted more than to secure the reward on offer; he wanted to extort a ransom of €10 million for its safe return (the actual reward posted by the insurance company had only been for €70,000).
These two cases, highlighted here at the beginning of this chapter, are mentioned as they appear to be the exception to the general norm surrounding major art thefts. Here, the thefts were carried out by individuals (no gang or criminal network affiliation known), the said stolen art works were kept by the perpetrators and held on to for a period of time (not fenced or passed to other criminals) with the ultimate goal – admittedly, some misplaced patriotism reasoning was involved in Peruggia’s case – of profiting financially from their criminal endeavours, either from collecting a reward or by ransoming the piece back. In both cases, the art works were recovered and the offenders jailed.
A simple précis of these two case studies has already thrown up certain key words of importance to this chapter – namely, reward, ransom and profit – whilst a fourth word, buy-back, is also looked at here. Excluding the rare examples of thieves stealing for reasons other than financial gain (and there have been some, like the 33-year-old French waiter, Stéphane Breitwieser, who stole for his own pleasure – 232 items from 139 European collections4 – before being caught in 2001), this chapter examines how art thieves might hope to turn a profit from their nefarious activities. It attempts to shed some light on this area by discussing the offering and payment of rewards, set in the context of the law (Common Law) and the practice thereof as an aid to recover stolen art. By clearly stating the current situation, it distinguishes between what a reward is – for what purpose it is offered – as opposed to a different post-theft scenario where a ransom and/or a buy-back is demanded.
The supposed idea that super-rich twisted art collectors actually commission such thefts is really nothing more than a myth – one that the media and film producers regularly spout out, for example, the ‘man-who-has-it-all’ rapacious collector-thief character played by Pierce Brosnan in the remake of The Thomas Crown Affair (1999). Reality has also been mixed into fiction, cleverly supplanting the idea into our consciousness; note Sean Connery’s James Bond’s glance at Goya’s portrait of the Duke of Wellington in Dr No (1962).5 The question still remains – for it has a compelling resonance – as to whether such evil-masterminded villains intent on collecting the world’s masterpieces belong to reality or pulp fiction. There will, no doubt, be influential criminals who can see the correlation between the rising values of art and the risk/reward ratio for stealing it. It also stands to reason that if this shadowy figurehead is actually believed to exist, then those committing the thefts will expect to be able to offload their haul that much more easily, generating an incentive for further thefts and thus creating a vicious circle between myth and reality. Much has been written on this relationship within the underworld, so much so that it would now appear to be a well and truly accepted method of currency, either to be used as a form of barter trade or black market collateral within their criminous circle – for example the owner of thirteen stolen Lowry paintings, currently valued at around £1 million, taken from a gallery in Northern England in 2006 believes that the art works are either being used as ‘currency’ by drug-dealing crime bosses6 or to be ransomed back to the original owner or offered to the insurance company via a buy-back transaction.
Vernon Rapley, a former Head of the Art & Antiques Unit of London’s Metropolitan Police (New Scotland Yard) and now the Director of Security at the Victoria and Albert Museum, explains the notion behind this:
For very high level art theft the purpose is almost always to sell it back on some future occasion, but historically it has been used for trading, as collateral. A criminal gang can trade that work or swap it with another criminal gang for twenty kilos of cocaine, because that criminal gang will have the assurance that at the end of that, if they don’t get their money back, they can hand the painting in for the reward. So the reward gives the painting its value within the criminal underworld.7
It might also provide the thief with a certain cachet, as Robert Read, Global Head of Fine Art at Hiscox hints at: ‘It’s like a calling card to the criminal underworld. It does give you some credibility to turn up to a gangland meeting with the Mona Lisa under your arm.’8
Most commentators on this subject baulk at the premise of hidden collectors commissioning headline-grabbing art heists. Mark Dalrymple, a specialist fine art loss adjuster, is one such: ‘I get very tired of this continuous journalistic drivel about Mr Big and the art world […] Criminals, unless they are deranged, steal art for money. Sometimes a bit of fame as well. But it is essentially money.’9 The former FBI art theft detective Thomas McShane, however, proffers an alternate opinion, believing that ‘He, and she, does exist alright. From Riyadh to Beverly Hills, they’re out there gazing up at their special prizes each and every day, proving once again that “stolen apples taste the sweetest”. They’re just extremely difficult to catch.’10 Edward Dolnick, the author of The Rescue Artist, ponders too on the myth/reality hypothesis, conjuring up a more stereotypical fictional villain-type figure, whilst at the same time considering whether they truly exist or not: ‘Is the stolen-to-order theory true? Brandy and smoking jackets aside, it certainly seems compelling. We know that masterpieces can never find legitimate buyers. We know that masterpieces are stolen regularly nevertheless. We know that many disappear forever.’11 The accepted reality, as mentioned, is that the concept of the Dr No-type collector remains in the world of fiction, yet the allure of the scheming criminal mastermind will always retain its attraction in the media, as well as the public’s consciousness, as the very idea is both cogent and widespread. Perhaps the retired Art & Antiques Unit (New Scotland Yard) police officer and current art detective, Charles Hill, best sums it up: ‘Crooks keep looking for goddamned Dr No. That’s their fantasy – somewhere out there is Mr Big or Dr No or Captain Nemo, in his hideaway with all his treasures. It’s complete bullshit, of course, but criminals would much rather live in a fantasy world.’12
A specialised fine art thief (if one such even exists) is an uncommon type and, like with the media’s portrayal of a Mr Big, is also given something of a top billing in both film and fable. Somehow, these criminals are seen in a different and more empathetic light, loveable rogues or dandy foppish gentlemen. The reality could not be further from the truth. Most art thieves are no different to those who partake in the most base and villainous crimes of society. They steal art because it is easy to do so. It takes no especial skills – cracking of high-tech codes etc. are best left to the movies – and is often from ill-protected locations containing under-insured collections. A very clear example of this can be seen in the misfortunes that befell the Beit Collection held at Russborough House, near Dublin, Ireland. This collection, including works by Goya, Vermeer, Rubens and Gainsborough, has been targeted four times: in 1974 by an IRA gang which included a British heiress (Rose Dugdale); in 1986 by Martin Cahill (nicknamed ‘The General’); in 2001 and in 2002 by Cahill’s known associate Martin Foley. The connections and links to the nasty and minacious world of gangland racketeering and terrorism are all too easy to see.13
All too often, it would seem, the criminals do not know what they are going to do with their ill-gotten loot once acquired. Financial gain is the desired outcome, but how to achieve it? This is indeed a conundrum. Robert Wittman, former undercover agent and Head of the FBI Art Crime Team, explains: ‘Criminals who steal high-value art-works tend to be better thieves than businessmen. They don’t understand that the true art in a heist isn’t the stealing, it’s the selling.’14 As a general rule of thumb to go by, and one that is widely accepted, the black-market value of a stolen art work is around ten per cent of the actual value (whether this is the market value, as spread by the media after a heist – the higher the value, the bigger the headline – or the insurance value, it is hard to know as this information is never revealed). However, when true ‘A-list’ masterpieces get stolen and are offered around, even the underground value can be too much. Wittman goes on: ‘The kind of people who have the wherewithal to pay that kind of money aren’t interested in owning something that they could never sell on and that they could possibly go to jail for possessing.’15 Wittman believes that thieves who target less-valuable art works, where the chances of them being registered on international art loss databases are less likely and whose theft would make fewer headlines, have a better chance of succeeding. Whilst not the same as the headline-grabbing ‘trophy piece’, it could allow the much-read-about black-market ‘paintings-for-collateral’ business to operate more easily. Figures given for the recovery rate of stolen high-end art put this lower-priced category of art (worth tens of thousands of dollars, as opposed to millions) at a low ten per cent, whilst for million-dollar-plus masterpieces the rate of recovery is dramatically improved and is placed at 90 per cent.16 Not all experts agree, though. Bonnie Magness-Gardiner, the current FBI Art Theft Program manager, believes the rate of recovery for masterpieces happens in less than five per cent of cases.17
If not connected to a criminal fraternity network within which they are able to pass on their illicit haul, or to barter with and, as discussed, with no mysterious buyer to turn to, the thieves often resort to contacting the original owner, or museum, or sometimes even the insurance company (or their agent) – especially if a reward has been posted – and this is where the chances of recovery markedly improve.
It is important to highlight the dissimilarities between reward and ransom, for the terms are often used interchangeably, even by those writing on the topic. For example, in Matthew Hart’s book The Irish Game: A True Story of Crime and Art, in mentioning what happens to stolen art – especially famous pieces – he writes in his introduction: ‘In many jurisdictions it is illegal to benefit thieves by paying them ransom. Ransom is paid anyway, often called a “reward for information”.’18 In such circumstances, it is easy to see why confusion around this topic manifests itself, especially in the written press and by those commentating on the subject.
At this juncture, it is perhaps appropriate to discuss the meaning, purpose and history of the reward system. By definition, a reward is ‘A sum of money or other compensation offered to the public in general, or to a class of persons, for the performance of a special service’,19 or ‘Something given in return for a service, or a sum of money offered for finding a criminal or missing property’.20 From these definitions we can see the reward acting as an inducement: to enable a finder to return that which was stolen, or for a good-faith purchaser of a stolen item, upon finding this out, to inform the rightful owner or go to the police and be properly recompensed for it by way of a reward, averting what would almost certainly have been a financial loss for the said purchaser should the reward not be honoured. Rewards are typically offered in relation to high-profile or high-value claims, more so when there is a certain need for information to be made public quickly, normally after the traditional lines of enquiry have dried up or are unresponsive.
A reward can be offered solely by an insurance company or by the police, or jointly, usually with differences between them, where the wording is crucial. For example, an insurance company reward (normally a cash sum) could be paid to the first person who returned, or arranged for them to be returned, or could point to the location of the said stolen items so that they might be restored to the rightful owner. Note that this type of reward would be payable to the first person providing the information, plus the recovery of the stolen goods, together with the proviso that said goods are still in a state of good repair.
A police reward, however, is normally made after information has been laid that leads to the identification of the thief or thieves, their arrest, prosecution and eventual conviction. This differs quite significantly from an insurance company reward, where the primary emphasis – whilst still keen to see the offender apprehended and convicted – is on the recovery of the stolen goods. It is a proven fact that the offering and payment of rewards has helped in the recovery of stolen art works.21 Paying for information and the use of rewards to elicit such is a well-established police method, as well as a recognised practice within the insurance industry, and is distinct from an owner offering to buy back a stolen work (which could fall into the category of paying a ransom or facilitating a buy-back or dishonest handling, and which is discussed at a later point in this chapter). However, the offer or payment does bring with it a number of difficulties; not least that the actual reward payment might in some way benefit the thief or those closely connected to him or her. Dick Ellis, a former Head of the Art & Antiques Unit (New Scotland Yard) and a current private art investigator, has always urged caution when it comes to rewards:
If you offer a reward, you will encourage information; that has been shown to be the case time and time again. But you have to understand the motivation of the person giving the information. Criminals will use that offer of a reward to try and sell the stolen property back. They will sell the information. You cannot always be 100% certain that the person you are paying for the information isn’t going to turn around and say OK guys we have made some money on this. But, if you can be certain enough that the person wasn’t directly involved in the commissioning of the crime or dishonest handling, then arguably it is safe to pay them a reward.22
Depending on the particular circumstances of each theft, the decision whether or not to issue a reward has to be made. Whilst they are not routinely offered, they are, in most cases, announced shortly after a theft for a number of reasons. Firstly, especially in cases of high-value items, to raise awareness of the crime and to bring about a swift return of the stolen items in an undamaged condition. It is also a way of making the offer as attractive as possible – or to make the object so ‘hot’ that it can’t be sold on – to entice an informant to come forward. Secondly, if the item is very fragile then a reward may also be offered. Thirdly, where the police investigation has stalled and it is hoped that the reward notice will elicit further leads.
Rewards should be seen as proactive investigative tools, rather than used in the hope of an informant turning up. An amount need not always be specified either. Often, this is done to dampen down the wild speculation concerning the value of the art work, or to give some leeway in the amount to be paid depending on the information received, or because the art work was underinsured, a point that is best left unreported on. This, then, brings us on to the question of how much a reward should be for. It is usually at the discretion of the payer of the reward, who will also usually decide on whether it should be a single payment, as well as if it should go to the first person who brings in solid information that leads to the safe return of the stolen property in an unharmed state and the arrest and conviction of those responsible (this last part will be looked at shortly). The amount of the reward on offer can vary, especially when dealing with either low- or very high-value pieces, but generally it is considered against public policy to offer more than ten per cent of the value of the recovered property.23 It should also be noted that the amount paid as a reward should never be negotiable in any way with the informant(s) – a case in point that arose during the trial in Scotland in 2010 of those who had sought a reward payment for the return of the stolen da Vinci painting. This highlighted the fine line between seeking a fair reward for returning a national treasure and that of potential extortion by refusing to hand back the painting until a sum was agreed.24
Those charged with the recovery of the stolen art work and arrest of the criminals are equally vocal on the subject. Dick Ellis again:
There can be a serious downside to the advertising of rewards, and their indiscriminate use has in the past acted only to encourage criminals to commit more thefts in the mistaken belief that the reward offered is little more than a price tag and that they will in effect be able to sell back the stolen art to the owners or to the insurers. There is a fine line between paying a genuine informant a reward for information given, and the use of a reward to buy back stolen property and for the investigator it is an area that is legally fraught and requires great care.25
Vernon Rapley takes an even harder line and argues that the payment of rewards is not conducive in the fight against art crime: ‘We should not negotiate with these people. That is the only way to go forward. Because the great majority of these offences are committed for exactly that reason.’26
Interestingly, the history of the reward system predates both the existence of the modern-day insurance market and the establishment of a full-time policing capability. Nowadays, rewards are generally posted in the art trade press and are accessible online, promulgating news of the theft far and wide; but we have to go back to the seventeenth century to establish the origins of rewards and their placement in the public domain. The state of the British press during the seventeenth century was not a healthy one. To deter disparaging and vituperative rumours – primarily aimed at the monarchy – and which were considered to endanger national security, censorship was introduced in 1663, together with a licensing system for all news publications. This quite obviously stifled the growth of a free and healthy press. However, all this was to change. In 1665, thanks to the court of King Charles II having to relocate from London to Oxford due to the Great Plague, the birth of a new publication, the Oxford Gazette, came about. This published eagerly awaited news from the capital and once the plague had dissipated and the court had returned to London, the desire to see a locally published newspaper soon led to the birth of the London Gazette.
This paper, printed only on two sides, came out on Mondays and Thursdays and contained such information as the usual Royal proclamations, society news, reports on battles being fought in far-off places, descriptions of highwaymen and their public hanging dates, and the occasional advertisement to return a lost item. A notice in the London Gazette number 2429, dated ‘from Monday February 18 to Thursday 21, 1688’, features one of the first ever recorded reward notices and makes mention of a certain Mr Edward Lloyd – the founder of the now-famous Lloyd’s of London – operating out of a coffee house in the busy thoroughfare of Tower Street, a particular favourite haunt of shipowners and seafarers alike. The actual advertisement makes reference to a theft some eight days previous, in which a suspect is described along with the chattels stolen. These included five silver pocket watches and chains, with a brief description of each and their workings. The advertisement ends with: ‘Whoever gives Notice of them to Mr. Edward Lloyd at his coffee house in Tower Street shall have a Guinea Reward.’27
And so from these early, rather simple, pleas to return stolen goods came about the greater use of the London Gazette to publish notices on behalf of the government for substantial rewards leading to the apprehension and conviction of those suspected of serious crimes, such as highway robbery. The practice continued into the eighteenth century and soon established that of individuals regularly placing financial rewards in the Gazette for the return of their stolen goods. The introduction of these financial rewards set about a great change in the criminal justice system. Sadly, those with an eye to corrupt it were quick to seize an opportunity. The legal system at the time primarily relied upon the victim to initiate and pay for a prosecution. To counter the cost in fees and time taken of mounting such prosecutions, the government offered financial inducements in the form of rewards and the payment of expenses for those willing to undertake it.
This, then, was the era of the ‘Thief-Takers’, individuals who used their knowledge of London’s underbelly to profit from both types of rewards, i.e. those from the State and those from individuals. Sometimes, they would contact the victim and offer to return the stolen goods for a set fee (having already conducted negotiations with the thieves), or they would use their knowledge to inform on criminals, leading to their prosecution, and in the process collect the state-funded rewards. The more corrupt thief-takers would take it a stage further and attempt to blackmail known criminals unless they paid protection money, whilst others would act as agent-provocateurs, persuading some into committing crimes, for which they would then arrest and prosecute them and claim the reward. Despite the many scandals involving thief-takers, the government still encouraged the legitimate side of thief-taking, as without offering rewards the apprehension of criminals would have been drastically reduced. By the mid-1700s, some thief-takers had become watchmen – men employed to prevent crime – whilst others were kept on a retainer basis and, once a crime was reported, would be sent out by magistrates to apprehend the culprit(s). The most famous of these more legitimate thief-takers were known as ‘Bow Street Runners’ due to their first station being located on Bow Street, and were the ‘forebears’ of what is now the Metropolitan Police Service.28
As has been already mentioned during the history and origins of how the rewards system came about, paying undesirables for information has been an ever-present thorn and one that was easily susceptible to corruption. In the United Kingdom, the modern take on the wording of what constitutes the requirements to be fulfilled has its roots in the enactment of the Theft Act in 1968 and which led to the introduction of conditions that were generally adopted and then abbreviated to ‘subject to usual conditions’. By the late 1960s, the offering and payment of rewards – whether by the police or members of the public – had fallen into a general state of disrepute with certain incidences of collusion (between the reward payer’s agents and their informants) happening. It came to a head in 1970 when the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police Service criticised the way in which insurance companies paid rewards to their informants for information relating to the recovery of stolen property, even before the conviction of the thief or of the dishonest handler. He linked this to the offence of ‘Handling Stolen Goods’, which is defined in Section 22 (1) of the Theft Act (1968): ‘A person handles stolen goods if (otherwise than in the course of stealing) knowing or believing them to be stolen goods, he dishonestly receives the goods, or dishonestly undertakes or assists in their retention, removal, disposal or realisation by or for the benefit of another person, or if he arranges to do so.’29 It was therefore brought to the attention of the Chartered Institute of Loss Adjusters that, in certain instances, a loss adjuster (or even a member of the public) could fall foul of the law upon paying a reward to an informant and indeed possibly be guilty of dishonest handling. After much-needed discussion between the Institute and the Commissioner, a circular was promulgated whereby certain procedures were suggested, the most significant being: ‘The reward will be paid to the first person giving to them (i.e. the firm of adjusters concerned) such information as will lead to recovery of the stolen property and arrest and conviction of the thief or thieves or pro rata to the amounts so recovered. This proviso may be abbreviated to “subject to the usual conditions”.’ It also covered advice on payments to police and adjusters’ informants. A major problem, though, to this proviso was that a conviction had to be secured for the reward to be paid. This led to a sharp fall in police-registered informants as they became disillusioned with the insurance companies for not paying out on rewards despite the goods being recovered, since cases were often without a conviction of the thief or thieves; a key and singular clause.30
Section 23 of the Theft Act (1968) is concerned with the advertising of rewards for the return of goods stolen or lost. It states:
Where any public advertisement of a reward for the return of any goods which have been stolen or lost uses any words to the effect that no questions will be asked, or that the person producing the goods will be safe from apprehension or inquiry, or that any money paid for the purchase of the goods or advanced by way of loan on them will be repaid, the person advertising the reward and any person who prints or publishes the advertisement shall on summary conviction be liable to a fine not exceeding level 3 on the standard scale.31
In practice, if an informant believes that a reward will not be paid unless there is a conviction of the original thief, he or she is very unlikely to come forward with information on the stolen property, especially if there could be some risk to his/her wellbeing from doing so. From this impasse, a solution had to be found so that a genuine informant (one not connected to the theft or handling aspects of the crime) upon providing information leading to the safe recovery of the stolen property could receive an appropriate payment as a reward, even if a conviction did not later materialise. To avoid being prosecuted under Section 23 of the Theft Act, police approval thus had to be sought and agreed. In 1980, this was made public in a letter between the Chartered Institute of Loss Adjusters (and other commercial parties) and the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police Service, which laid out conditions to be followed. All UK police forces now have in place a prescribed manner that allows payments of rewards to be made on behalf of a member of the public. Extreme care still has to be taken by the payer of a reward, to make sure that it is not going to somebody involved in the crime; however, if the payment is made with the approval of the police and is done through them, then there should be no fear of a prosecution under Section 22 (1).32
Tyler & Co.’s Mark Dalrymple, a highly experienced and specialist fine art loss adjuster, has been instrumental in moving the debate forward and in putting in place the current thinking about how a reward should now be offered:
The reward will be paid to the first person providing such information as will lead to the recovery of the stolen property, the amount to be at the absolute discretion of the payer but proportionate to the value of the property so recovered, subject to express approval of the Police Authority concerned. The above conditional offer may be abbreviated (and so as to differentiate the conditions attaching from ‘usual’ conditions) to ‘subject to specific conditions’.33
Experts, as we have learnt, disagree over whether paying for information leading to the recovery of stolen art might actually encourage more thefts. It is hard to prove definitively one way or the other. Cases are rarely straightforward or easily pigeonholed. A case in point is that of the two Turner paintings, on loan from London’s Tate Gallery to the Schirn Kunsthalle in Frankfurt, that were stolen in 1994 and were thought at one time to have been in the possession of Serbian gangsters, including the now-deceased war criminal Arkan, possibly using them as collateral in drugs deals.34 One of the Turners was recovered in 2000, but its discovery was kept secret until the second painting was recovered in December 2002. The Tate, having bought the title back from the insurers, spent around £3.5 million in legal fees, travel, protection arrangements and, most importantly, for the expenses relating to the information which led to their eventual return. The recovery was incredibly complicated, not only in the operation and negotiations, but also in the release of any money. In addition to the Tate and the Metropolitan Police Service, the process also involved Britain’s High Court, the Department for National Heritage, the Charity Commission and the Attorney General’s office, as well as the Frankfurt Prosecutor’s Office and the German Federal Criminal Police.35
Some commentators have suggested that the payment made by the Tate was more of a ransom or a buy-back than a reward payment. Mark Dalrymple, whose company was involved in the Turner case, believes that it fell somewhere between a reward and a payment for information that led to their safe recovery.36 On whether the payments were a ransom or part of a buy-back, he is unequivocal:
Was the Tate payment a ransom or a reward? Payment of a ransom is an offence in the UK, and a criminal offence would have been committed, regardless of what a judge in chambers might have said. The key element of ransom is the threat of destruction: you can’t have something back unless you pay. Ransoms are usually used for threats to human life or animals, like Shergar. If there is a threat like that – pay up or we will burn them – then my answer would be, ‘burn them’. Because then the criminals will get nothing as well. But criminals never will. Why burn something they have invested say £100,000 in? Most criminals, unless they are mentally unstable, will steal things for financial gain in one form or another, and they are not going to burn them. The point that I have been asked on a number of occasions, was whether it [the Turner case] involved a ‘buy-back’? It was not a buy-back. A buy-back is when you are dealing with a villain who you know to control the stolen object, give them money in the hope that you will be given the picture, and letting the criminal get away with it by not telling the police.37
Ransoming an art work back, i.e. making a demand with menaces, is another oft-tried method of seeking profit, although it rarely succeeds and often leads to the recovery of the stolen property. ‘Artnapping’ – the stealing of art for a ransom and a term that brings forth visions of bizarre art hostage situations – is sometimes the only way the thieves can see to monetise their haul and make good on their felonious enterprise. It shows that the thieves had very little idea, or contacts, on how to dispose of the art. Unfortunately, it has gained some popularity within the criminal world. In March 2015, the Vatican announced that it had been approached and asked to pay a ransom of €100,000 for the return of two documents written by Michelangelo which had been stolen 20 years previously, whilst in April 2015, the Van Buuren Museum in Belgium admitted to having paid a ransom for the safe return of ten Brueghel the Younger paintings. In November 2015, news broke of a ransom demand for €150,000 for the safe return of a Gustav Klimt painting that had been stolen in 1997 from a gallery in Piacenza, northern Italy.38
Concerning buy-backs, often an intermediary – someone who claims not to have anything whatsoever to do with the original crime – contacts the insurance company, agent or owner in the hope of being offered a ‘finder’s fee’, an amount that is a fraction of the published market value. The aggrieved party, finding this sum an acceptable price to part with (the insurance company would stand to lose the insured sum otherwise), agrees and the illicit transaction is then completed between parties without informing the police. Being illegal, the public is never informed about these cases, although speculation that it happens is often rife, especially in situations when an art work has been recovered, yet the details on how remain sketchy. The other kind of buy-back is quite a different matter, as in the case of the Turners, where, quite legitimately, the Tate bought back the title from the insurance company, after having earlier been paid the insured sum.
There are certainly grey areas of the law – a fine line exists between being arrested for handling stolen goods when affecting or facilitating a payment to a person supposedly unconnected to the crime for the return of said stolen art work – where different views mean different approaches in how best to conduct an investigation and recover the goods at the same time. It is a thorny issue, with certain private art detectives (many are retired police officers) being accused by their former employers of having a rather cavalier approach. In 2003, a ‘senior source’ from the Metropolitan Police was quoted in the Evening Standard as saying: ‘I’m not here to lecture on their morals. I understand private investigators have a different position from the police. Their job is to recover art for the victim rather than arresting villains. But we do feel that effectively buying back paintings could be encouraging more thefts.’39 Charles Hill, a former police officer and now a specialist art private investigator, understands that he is operating in a grey area, but it is one that the police have largely left to the private sector: ‘You have to look at each case and try to make hard-and-fast rules about where the line is between a reward and a ransom.’40
Of course, one of the world’s most famous art heists – the loss of 13 art works by many of the world’s top artists (Manet, Degas, Rembrandt and Vermeer), with an estimated value at over US$500 million, stolen in the early hours of 18 March 1990 from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston – remains unsolved and the pieces unrecovered despite a reward of US$5 million being offered. Perhaps the robbery is still too much in the public eye, proving publicity does not always pay off. Maybe, too, other factors in this singular heist have played their part in the lack of successful leads, such as the size of the reward, or the particular conditions attached to it, or even the infamous reputations of those supposedly involved in the robbery. The Director of Security at the museum, Anthony Amore, simply explained that the reward would be paid ‘for information that leads directly to the recovery of all of our items in good condition’.41 An interesting fact that was reported in the newspapers a few days after the robbery was of the involvement of the two big auction houses, Sotheby’s and Christie’s, in relation to the reward offered:
Two international auction houses are underwriting a US$1m reward – no questions asked – in the theft of a dozen [sic] uninsured art treasures from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum […] The reward in Sunday’s heist was offered yesterday. Sotheby’s and Christie’s auction houses are underwriting the reward by using their own money and by soliciting funds from art supporters worldwide, museum Director Anne Hawley said. Ms. Hawley indicated the reward might even be paid to the thieves if the art was safely recovered.42
It seems quite incredible to read of a reward being offered with ‘no questions asked’, especially when linked to the museum and the auction houses and the reputational damage it could cause, but such was the shock at the audacity of the robbery that any measures were seen at the time to be justified, even possibly paying the reward to the thieves! In 2012, Jeffrey Gundlach, the owner of 13 stolen art works including a piece by Mondrian, offered a reward totalling US$1.7 million for the safe return of the paintings but only if they were returned undamaged. The reward notice included the phrase, ‘No Questions Asked’. A detective working the case, when asked whether the police approved of Gundlach’s posting the reward himself and the manner in which it was offered, simply stated: ‘That’s his own action and we’re separating ourselves from that because that’s up to him.’43
Of course, the police support the judicious use of rewards, so long as the practice is properly regulated. Vernon Rapley concurs:
A reward, which is subject to proper conditions, and leads to a successful conviction, still has a place – but that is the practice in this country, whereas in some countries they are willing to pay for the return of stolen property with very few further questions being asked. And it is continually tried here […] If you offer a reward for the return with no questions asked, effectively you are available for a buy-back of the commodity, and you will fuel further crime. The trouble with a reward is that it is a double-edged sword. By offering a reward you increase the use and value of stolen property to the criminals who hold it. You may also increase false intelligence, as you then have all kinds of clowns out there who start coming in and taking up a huge amount of police time and resources […] On the other hand, it is a way to start the underworld chatting, talking and thinking. And ultimately gives the police the chance to cultivate and work on the intelligence that results. It has to be a balance.44
Thus, the offer of a reward can be a powerful and useful tool in the recovery of stolen property. In an ideal world, the safe return of the property is also matched with the arrest, prosecution and conviction of those responsible.
This chapter has highlighted the main areas concerning the use of rewards as a means for thieves to profit from their criminal endeavours. It has looked at the phraseology, separating the oft-confused terms ‘rewards’, ‘ransoms’ and ‘buy-backs’, and has looked at some famous examples where rewards have been offered. It has also mentioned some of the pitfalls to be avoided. Certainly, there are differences in the approach of insurers, loss adjusters, private detectives and the police, with different outcomes expected. For the system to work properly, a reward must be fairly offered and with the conditions clearly stated most importantly whether a conviction is required. The phrase ‘subject to specific conditions’ has addressed this issue and is now more widely seen on reward notices. As has been seen, the offering of rewards has a long and established history. There are no statistics to prove the efficacy of them; however, their use by both police forces and insurance companies shows that they do indeed play an important role in the steps taken to recover stolen property. Ultimately, every care possible has to be taken to make sure that the thief does not benefit from the payment of a reward, to show that crime does not pay.
Toby Bull is a serving Hong Kong Police officer and recently taught on ARCA’s annual Postgraduate Certificate Programme in Art Crime and Cultural Heritage Protection Studies in Umbria, Italy. He holds a Fine Arts Valuation degree, is a certified art authenticator and has lectured on fakes, forgeries, illicit antiquities and smuggling to the major auction houses and beyond.